


Word of God

by jujubiest



Series: SPN One-Shots [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 I don't know her, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mentions of Chuck - Freeform, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29526957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: Chuck’s words float back to him: The self-hating angel of Thursday. It weights on Dean, the thought that Cas--the kindest, most forgiving, best person he’s ever known--could ever truly hate himself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN One-Shots [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/177362
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Word of God

There’s something to be said, Dean thinks, for throwing out the word of God. Since breaking free of Chuck’s twisted story, his life has been a thousand times better. Not perfect, because nothing’s ever _perfect._ But...good. Quiet. Full of possibilities he was never able to consider before.

But sometimes, when he’s being still, thinking--something he has the space to do now that the world isn’t always ending--a few of Chuck’s words float back to him, unbidden. _The self-hating angel of Thursday._

It weighs on him, that throwaway insult. He can’t bear it, the thought that Cas-- _Cas_ \--the kindest, most forgiving, best person he’s ever known, might not extend that same kindness to himself.

“Cas...” he finally says, one night when they’re curled up in bed. “I gotta ask: that thing Chuck said.”

He stops there as he feels Cas freeze in his arms. He runs a soothing hand over his back, once, then again just because he can. It’s still so new, wanting to comfort Cas and knowing he _can_ , he’s _allowed_. Cas relaxes somewhat under his touch, grows a tiny bit heavier in Dean’s arms, the weight reassuring. Dean decides then it’s safe to continue.

“Do you really...hate yourself?” He cards a hand through Cas’s hair as he says it, trying to soothe, to make up for asking in the first place. It feels wrong, bringing up Chuck in the safety of their bed, but he needs to know--and, if the answer is what he fears, to find a way to help.

It takes Cas several minutes to answer. When he finally does, his voice is soft, contemplative...but not sad or in pain, Dean notes with relief.

“I think I did, when he said it. The irony is that by saying it, he freed me of that particular burden.”

“Yeah?” Dean says, smiling down at the top of his head. “How so?”

“I used to wonder, all the time, if I was doing the right thing. Not just about specific choices, but about the act of making a choice itself. Free will was not meant for me, but I reached out and took it anyway. And I’ve hurt a lot of people with my decisions since.”

Dean holds him a little tighter in the silence that follows that statement. He knows the things Cas is thinking of, or at least he knows some of them. He’ll never forget staring at Cas’s face, drawn with regret and lit by holy fire, every hunter’s instinct screaming at him to run while his heart begged for him to stay. He knows the cliffs notes of what Cas did after that, knows it was bad enough that Cas thought he deserved death afterward, to stay trapped in Purgatory. _An angel in a land of abominations._

It’s a long time before Cas speaks again, but eventually he does, voice soft and partially muffled by his face pressed against the material of Dean’s shirt. They’re safe here. They can talk about anything, all the unsaid things from years past, in hushed voices where those sins and mistakes have no power to hurt them anymore, their arms around each other evidence that all has already been forgiven.

“I used to think my true sin was hubris, not in thinking I could lead heaven or make things better, but in thinking I had the right to _think_ in the first place.”

“Yeah...that’s not just you,” Dean laughs softly. “Pretty sure everyone wonders if they’re doing it all wrong, especially when we go against the grain and it doesn’t work out. ‘Who am I? What was I thinking?’ Been there a few times myself, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Cas hums thoughtfully at that, not disagreeing. He almost wants to say it’s different for humans, but he isn’t sure any longer that’s true. If free will was ultimately an illusion, before, did it matter who thought they had a right to it?

“When Chuck revealed his true nature,” he says, “a part of me wondered if anything I’d ever done had really been _my choice_ after all. Maybe you were right, and all my mistakes were just more of his cruel machinations. More ways to play with your life.” Dean holds him very tightly at that. There’s no condemnation in the words, no bitterness. Dean knows they’re good, knows Cas doesn’t hold a grudge. But he hasn’t quite forgiven himself yet.

He’s working on it.

“But he _threw_ it at me, the fact that all the other versions of me did what they were told. Like it was a weapon with the power to hurt.” Cas draws away from Dean now, just enough to look him in the eyes. He’s _smiling,_ and Dean’s breath catches in his throat the way it always does when Cas smiles at him like that. He’s the luckiest bastard alive to be loved by this impossible man. He never _forgets,_ but sometimes it hits him with renewed force, how true it is.

When Cas speaks, his voice rings with conviction, deep and vibrant and _alive_ against Dean’s chest.

“That’s when I knew...good or bad, those choices truly were _mine._ Every mistake, every good decision, every moment where I didn’t know which direction to choose...they were all mine. And more importantly, _I_ was right, too. When I told you the one thing in all of this that was real was us. Knowing that, I didn’t hate myself anymore.”

Dean can’t speak. He can barely breathe. So instead he pulls Cas towards him, kisses him fiercely, like it will give him the breath he can’t draw and the words he can’t seem to find.

“Love you,” he murmurs against Cas’s lips, unwilling to move any further away than absolutely necessary for speech. “Realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

It’s nothing like one of Cas’s epic, heartfelt pronouncements. But it’s simple and true, and maybe that’s enough, because Cas’s only answer is to pull him in for another kiss, his response in every press of lips and brush of Cas’s hands across his skin.

_I love you, too._


End file.
